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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825346">Silver Lady</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamela_rose/pseuds/Pamela%20Rose'>Pamela Rose (pamela_rose)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Starsky &amp; Hutch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:48:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825346</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamela_rose/pseuds/Pamela%20Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How grim is this story? Very grim indeed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ken Hutchinson &amp; David Starsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Silver Lady</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Published in Trace Elements (1982)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Starsky knocked, although he didn’t expect an answer. Hutch had planned to go up to the mountains for some backpacking on their days off. In his partner’s humble opinion it was a crazy way to rest and relax—especially when it could be spent in front of the television with lots of cold beer, watching a Bogie film festival.</p><p>Which was what brought him to Hutch’s. His tv had gone on the blink again and he decided to borrow the little portable he’d bought Hutch for Christmas two years earlier. It was usually stuck in a closet someplace, and only brought out for Jacques Cousteau or John Denver specials—a fact that irritated Starsky no end. Hutch’s opinions on television were quite adamant. Too exploitive and too violent, he insisted. Starsky found that extremely funny coming from a man who carried the same type gun as Dirty Harry.</p><p>Starsky removed the key from the doorsill and entered, humming ‘As Years Go By” off key. He was a little surprised to see the apartment was more untidy than Hutch would usually leave it. True, Hutch wasn’t always the best of housekeepers, but he’d never seen it quite this bad. There were dishes on the coffee table and piled in the sink, and shirts and towels had been tossed carelessly over the chairs and couch. Shrugging, Starsky went into the bedroom where Hutch usually stashed the tv. The bed was unmade and most of the blankets had been tossed on the floor. Assorted clothes and shoes littered the carpet. <em>And you accuse me of being a slob</em>, Starsky thought with a grin.</p><p>He opened the closet door. The television was on a shelf to one side. As he lifted it off, the plug caught on something and he had to pause to loosen it, clumsily knocking some objects behind the shelf. Cursing, he set the tv down and stuck his hand back to retrieve them. There was a kind of ledge behind it, and the first thing he came up with was a small, tin box. He turned it over curiously. The weak latch gave and several small items dropped at his feet.</p><p>Starsky stared at them, stunned. A short length of rubber tubing, a battered spoon, a clear, zip-lock bag containing white powder . . . and a hypodermic needle. He squatted down, almost afraid to touch them, to discover they were real. Finally, he reached out and gingerly picked up the needle, the silver spike looking vicious and cold in the sunlight. Hesitantly he opened the plastic bag and touched his fingertip to the powder, then to his tongue.</p><p>He sat back suddenly, dropping his forehead to his knees. “Oh, Hutch, no,” he whispered hoarsely.</p><p>There was the sound of a door opening and closing, but Starsky was too shaken to take notice. He felt like crying for the uselessness of it all, and for his damnedable blindness. He should have noticed the change in Hutch earlier. Now that he had the reason before his eyes, all the undefinable differences in his partner’s behavior jumped out at him with startling clarity. Hutch had always been moody, but recently his temperament had been more unstable than ever. Fluctuating from an incandescent cheerfulness to an increasingly gloomy depression. Starsky, seasoned by years of his volatile partner’s disposition, had tried to ignore it, thinking the trip to the mountains would put him back on course as it usually did. Now it was all too obvious that Hutch’s problems ran far deeper. How could he even be certain of how long it had been going on?</p><p>“What are you doing here?” The voice was coldly furious.</p><p>Starsky looked up blankly. Hutch was standing in the doorway, eyes hard and wary. “I . . . I wanted to borrow your tv,” Starsky said, still trying to gather his thoughts together.</p><p>Almost as one, their gazes moved to the tin box and the scattered contents on the floor. Neither spoke. After a moment, Hutch came forward and picked up the paraphernalia, tossing it back in the box and slamming the lid.</p><p>“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, avoiding his partner’s stricken gaze.</p><p>“Hutch . . . why?” Even now Starsky grasped for alternatives, praying it was all a mistake. “It’s somebody else’s, isn’t it? Some girl you know? She stashed it here, right?”</p><p>The blond started to speak, then swallowed and turned away. ‘‘Think what you want.”</p><p>“God, Hutch, don’t let me think <em>anything</em>. Just tell me it isn’t yours. Tell me I’m crazy, please!”</p><p>Hutch made an impatient gesture and tossed the box on the bed, as if he wanted to disavow it. “Let it go, Starsk. Just forget you came here today. You don’t want to know the truth, so forget it. It would be best for everyone.”</p><p>“That’s heroin in that box, Hutch. How can I forget it?”</p><p>Hutch swung around viciously, “Gee, you shoulda been a narc, Officer Starsky.”</p><p>“So it’s yours?” Starsky demanded, ignoring the sarcasm.</p><p>“Yes!” His partner exploded. “What do you want, a signed confession? Now that you have your answer, either arrest me or get the hell out of here!”</p><p>Starsky didn’t seem to hear the fury in Hutch’s voice. He shook his head in disbelief, tears welling in his eyes. “Ah, Hutch, how did this happen? Why?”</p><p>Hutch’s breath was coming very quickly, his fists clenched to keep his hands from shaking. He forced a laugh and it came out harsh and false. “Why? Because it feels good. It feels damn good, you wouldn’t believe it. Have you ever been high, Starsky? So high you feel you’re right on the verge of touching something exquisite, something incredible . . . . Nirvana, maybe. Everything bad in this whole, stinking, fucked-up world has faded away, and you’re left way up high, out of it all. <em>That’s</em> why, Starsky. Because one of these times it might just stay that way forever.”</p><p>“You’re talking crazy, Hutch!”</p><p>“Am I? How would <em>you</em> know?”</p><p>Starsky stood up slowly, feeling sick at his stomach, facing a stranger. “I know. And so do you, Hutch. It’s a dream, a trap. You’re too smart to fall in it. I just don’t understand how it happened. Did someone—?”</p><p>“No,” Hutch cut him off impatiently. “Don’t be a fool. This time it was all on my own, buddy. We might as well get that straight right now.”</p><p>“Then tell me why! It doesn’t make sense.” Starsky felt as if he were sinking into waters too deep to comprehend. “There has to be a reason!”</p><p>Hutch took a deep breath and looked away. “I don’t think you’ll understand, Starsk. We’re talking two different languages now. Maybe we always have. We see life so differently. With you it’s a rollercoaster ride and you don’t even slow down for the curves. With me . . . it’s all uphill, a struggle. I can’t quite make it and I get so tired of trying. I’m weaker than you, Starsk. I can’t cope as well. “ He looked back at his partner, pleadingly. “I was . . . tired. Tired of fighting it, tired of getting beaten down, disappointed, disillusioned. I wanted to get away for just a little while . . . find an escape.” His shoulders slumped. “There’s no way you can understand that, I know. I don’t expect you to.” He gave Starsky an envious look. “Everything is always so damn rosy to you. You bounce back. Well, I can’t. Not anymore.”</p><p>“You’re right,” Starsky said roughly, “I don’t understand. You’re saying you’d rather chuck it all, shoot up, and let the world go on without you. That’s a cop-out, Hutch. It’s just not you!”</p><p>“You don’t know what I am,” Hutch snapped. “Why am I bothering to explain? It’s none of your business anyway. What gives you the right to come snooping into my life? You’re not my keeper!”</p><p>“No, I’m not. I’m your friend. I love you more than I love my own brother, damn it! You think I can just stand by and watch you destroy yourself?”</p><p>Hutch bit down on his lip, stifling the answer he wanted to give. “I’m doing just fine. Look, you wouldn’t have even known if you hadn’t found the kit. What’s the difference?”</p><p>“Okay, I was stupid. I didn’t see the signs—or maybe I just didn’t want to see. But I know now, and it’s gonna stop now.” He tried a different approach. “My god, do you think I want to risk my neck with a partner who’s shooting up?”</p><p>That hit a tender spot. Hutch’s eyes flashed. “I don’t use when I’m working, damn you. I can function and you know it. You haven’t complained.”</p><p>“Not yet,” Starsky replied coolly. “But sooner or later you’ll slip. Junkies don’t make very good cops.”</p><p>‘‘Sure,” Hutch put in cuttingly, “just like alcoholics don’t make good cops, or gamblers, or sadistic bastards, or . . . Hey, you want me to name you twenty?”</p><p>Starsky bit his lip at that truth, heart sinking. “Just because they’re on the force, doesn’t mean I want to ride with one.”</p><p>Hutch’s head shot up. “Well, buddy, that’s pretty plain. So we won’t ride together. In fact, I think I’ll just quit. I should never have returned to begin with, but you—” He broke off for a second, flushing, then continued, “I’m sick of the whole sordid mess anyway. Good riddance. That’s ninety percent of the reason I went back to smack.”</p><p>Starsky took a step toward him, afraid he’d pushed too hard. “All right, if that’s the reason, we’ll both quit. Go somewhere else. Do something else. As long as you—”</p><p>“Don’t be an ass,” Hutch cut in sharply. “If I’m going to make a break, it’s going to be a clean one. No more of this ‘me and thee’ shit. Be realistic, we’re not kids anymore. You’re just somebody I work with.”</p><p>Starsky stared at him, speechless, bile rising in his throat. If Hutch had pulled out his magnum and shot him through the heart, it wouldn’t have hurt any worse.</p><p>“Don’t look at me that way,” Hutch said, color draining from his face as he realized what he had said. But he pushed on, wanting to finish it now that he had no more choice. “You don’t <em>need</em> me. Grow up, will you?” He tried to move away, but Starsky’s eyes held him. A minute passed, and then another. Hutch couldn’t stand it any longer. The wounded expression in Starsky’s eyes broke him. He went to the bed and sat down weakly, burying his face in his hands with a muffled sob. “God, Starsk . . . .I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean any of it. I . . . don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m falling apart and I can’t seem to stop it.”</p><p>With a quick rush of relief, Starsky sat down beside his partner and pulled him into a close hug, dropping a consoling kiss on the gold hair.</p><p>“It’s all right, babe. We’ll make it. It’ll be okay.”</p><p>“I’m sorry . . . really sorry. I wish you’d never have found out. I didn’t want to hurt you, Starsk.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out. We’ll quit the force and then you won’t have all this pressure on you. It’ll all work out, you’ll see.”</p><p>‘‘I . . . I don’t want to quit, Starsk.”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” Starsky soothed. “We can manage that, too. Dobey’ll give us both a leave if I ask him right. We’ll go someplace. I’ll help you kick it, Hutch. We did it once, we can do it again. It’ll be rough, but we’ll make it work. You won’t have to quit the force—”</p><p>Hutch jerked out of Starsky’s embrace. He stared at his partner. “You thought I meant . . . . Oh, god, how ironic.” This time the laugh was almost genuine, but bitter—so bitter that Starsky’s spirits sank. ‘‘I wasn’t talking about quitting the force, Starsky. I won’t quit the smack.”</p><p>“But— Hutch, you have to!”</p><p>“No.” The blond stood and backed off a few steps, looking down at his partner warily, as if Starsky would jump him at any minute. “No. I won’t go through that again. Not for you, not for anybody. I won’t. Don’t you see? I can’t!”</p><p>Starsky’s jaw set with determination. “You can and you will, damn it! I’m not going to let you do this to yourself.”</p><p>“Then you’d better bust me right now because . . .  because I can’t take that again. You don’t know what it’s like. You can’t begin to know. If you’re really my friend, if you really love me, you won’t put me through that.”</p><p>“Hutch . . .”</p><p>‘‘I mean it, Starsky.”</p><p>Starsky’s chin jutted out stubbornly. “And I mean it. You’re going to kick it.” He picked the tin box up from the bed and stood to face Hutch. “This is suicide, and I’m not going to let you do it.”</p><p>“It’s <em>my</em> life!” Hutch shouted.</p><p>“<em>Our</em> life, damn it!” Starsky threw the box against the wall with a crash. “You’re not in this by yourself.”</p><p>“No . . . no . . . .” Hutch repeated, eyes suddenly frightened. “This has nothing to do with you. Just leave me alone . . . please.”</p><p>Starsky gripped his partner’s arm tightly. “Listen to me. You have to realize that I am part of this. What you did to yourself, you did to me too. That’s the way it works, babe.”</p><p>Hutch’s eyes were huge with confusion and fear. “No . . . . Starsk, don’t say that.”</p><p>“It’s true. Make up your mind, Hutch. Either we kick it together, or . . . .I’ll shoot up, too. I’m serious. If it’s so terrific you can’t bear to give it up, then maybe I am missing out on something.”</p><p>Hutch jumped up from the bed in panic. “No! God, no . . .”</p><p>“Well?” Starsky demanded, knowing he had won.</p><p>“It’s not that easy, Starsk. Please don’t do this to me. Can’t you see I can’t face it? I honestly don’t have the strength. You just have to stay out of it, please.”</p><p>“No way. It’s all or nothing. It’s up to you buddy.”</p><p>Hutch sat back limply on the bed, all energy and fight drained from him. “Starsk, I—” He stopped, unable to choke out the words.</p><p>Starsky took this for assent. He brushed the blond hair back tenderly. “Just hang on, Hutch. It’ll be fine, I promise. I’m right in there with you, kid. Together we can lick it.” He straightened up. “Listen, I’m going to talk to Dobey and get some things arranged. I’ll be back in about an hour. You just stay put, okay?”</p><p>Hutch closed his eyes tightly, then his entire body relaxed, as if he had made a difficult decision and a heavy weight had been lifted from him. He opened his eyes and studied his partner carefully, taking in every detail.</p><p>“Hutch? You heard me, didn’t you? You’ll stay right here and wait for me, right?” Hutch nodded slowly.</p><p>“Promise?” Starsky asked worriedly.</p><p>“I’ll stay here.”</p><p>“Good.” Starsky gave him a quick hug. “We’ll figure out exactly what we’re gonna do when I get back. Maybe we’ll even go up to the mountains like you wanted. How about that?”</p><p>Hutch nodded again, absently.</p><p>Starsky looked at him with concern, but turned to leave, confident he could depend on Hutch’s word not to leave the apartment. He paused at the door and went back for the tin box, picking it up with an apologetic glance at Hutch. “Sorry, but the sooner we start on this cure, the better. I’ll take this with me and dump it in the sewer or something, just to be on the safe side.”</p><p>Hutch seemed uncaring. He was still sitting in the same spot when the apartment door closed behind his partner. The rooms were so silent, Hutch could almost hear the doomed thud of his heart.</p><p>“Good-bye, Starsky,” he said aloud, testing the sound of it. He broke his pose at last, standing stiffly and walking to the mirror. He studied the pale reflection carefully, as if judging an unpleasant stranger.</p><p>“Good-bye, Hutch,” he whispered.</p>
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